Fever
by Amber Greene
Summary: Rated "R" for mature themes. Hermione has a hard time deciding whether to live with Harry and Ron in their new flat. Ron helps her make up her mind. Winner, New Year's Kiss Challenge at checkmated.com


**FEVER **

  
  
Hermione Apparated in front of Harry and Ron's new flat in London. Her two best friends had just moved into the flat five days ago, on Boxing Day of all days, and had been begging her to share it with them ever since. The boys had been singing praises about this new place. It was right next to the Ministry of Magic, where all three of them were working -- Harry and Ron training to become Aurors, while she apprenticed in research at the Department of Mysteries. They said it was so spacious that she could have a bedroom and a study all to herself. So spacious that there was enough elbow room in the kitchen for Ron to cook all the tasty meals he learned to make from Mrs. Weasley. _So spacious_ _that Harry could play Quidditch with the Chudley Cannons in the living room?_ she had asked sarcastically. The boys had rolled their eyes, no doubt firmly convinced that the flat was perfect for the three of them. Except it wasn't... at least, not for her. Living in close quarters with two boys -- or, with _one_ of them, if she was being totally honest with herself -- didn't seem like such a good idea. 

Yet here she was, at a quarter to eight on New Year's Eve, letting herself into the flat with the spell and password Harry had given her. The three of them were supposed to meet there tonight, so they could give her a tour of the place (and probably plead with her to move in right away). At first, she had suspected the boys of trying to detain her until midnight, and then spout off some nonsense, most likely Ron's invention, about how it would bring her luck to live where she had rung in the new year. There was no doubt their reasons would be creative, as the boys had spent years making up their Divination homework. But at the last minute, Harry had begged off for one reason or another, and Ron had insisted on keeping the appointment with her. 

On hindsight, she probably should have canceled, too. She shouldn't have come. But she caved in to Ron's wheedling, even though she knew better. That man -- good Lord, when had he turned into a _man_? -- was going to be the death of her. The mere thought of spending time alone with Ron in the flat was wreaking havoc on her sanity. But it wasn't because he was particularly difficult to live with. Not that he had any disgusting habits that she knew of. It's just that... 

She sighed. Who was she really trying to deceive? She would find it particularly difficult to live with Ron for a very particular reason, the reason being nothing more or less than... she was in love with him. But she didn't want to be in love with him. He was a clueless git. But then again, she'd been in love with him since she was twelve years old, and it had proven to be a surprisingly strong emotion, even bordering on addiction. She kicked herself, for the ten thousandth time in the last six and a half years. 

As soon as she stepped inside the flat, she knew she'd never be able to live there. It immediately gave the impression of being cozy and inviting. It was just too tempting. All her defenses would crumble within a week of living there with Ron. The only thing she could do was pretend to like the place, then find some flaw that would make it impossible for her to live there. But how could she pull it off? 

Since she arrived fifteen minutes earlier than the time she and Ron had agreed upon, she would be free to look around and decide for herself if the flat was really as perfect as the boys said it was. She would look around to her heart's content without being distracted by any gorgeous redheads answering to the description of "clueless git." She'd be able to think of something that would let her worm her way out of moving in. That was the benefit of being early for an appointment -- she'd be prepared to face any and all forms of shameless begging from lopsided-smiling, freckle-faced, long-nosed, handsome... 

She took several deep breaths to empty her brain of thoughts of Ron, and almost ended up hyperventilating. Right, then. On to business. Examining the living room was the most logical first step. 

The living room had a sofa and a pair of armchairs that just drew a person to sit down and relax, maybe put up their feet on the low centre table, even though they really shouldn't. The ensemble was facing a massive fireplace, in which bluebell flames crackled merrily. It was absolutely perfect for unwinding after a long day at the Ministry. She could just imagine sitting down on that sofa at the end of a fourteen-hour workday, with Ron easing his lithe body beside hers, wrapping his arms around her and... 

She nearly ran to the kitchen to snap out of the fantasy that invaded her mind. The kitchen was big enough to accommodate twenty size-two pewter cauldrons bubbling at the same time. She could picture Ron waving his wand around the kitchen, cooking a five-course meal _and_ dessert all at the same time, while wearing an apron that said, "Kiss the Cook." Of course, she would be only too willing to oblige... 

A squeak escaped from her mouth, and she ran for it again. She turned into a hallway, and there it was -- a door with a small wooden sign saying "Hermione's study." She went inside and felt her heart leap. A large desk, a comfortable leather armchair and bookshelves that stretched from floor to ceiling were already installed, just waiting for her approval. Everything was just right. Except it wasn't. She wouldn't be able to disappoint them by saying it wasn't good enough for her. They would be heartbroken. 

On the other hand, if she tried to live there, she could just imagine Ron coming into the study every five minutes, pestering her. Bringing pumpkin juice because she might be thirsty, perhaps a muffin or an eclair so she'd have something for the pumpkin juice to wash down, or maybe dropping a little kiss on her forehead because she was working too hard. Yes, that was exactly how he had pestered her while they were studying for the N.E.W.T.s -- except for the kissing, of course. Not that he would do it, and not that she would have wanted him to do it while they were at school. But supposing she agreed to live there, if he _did_ pester her like that, she would show him she didn't appreciate that kind of thing. She'd definitely show him. She'd throw herself at him and kiss him back and... 

She groaned as she exited the study and walked towards a set of doors that she assumed would be the bedrooms. She opened the first door and stepped inside. It was definitely Harry's room, as evidenced by bottle-green robes spread across the bed, copies of _Which Broomstick?_ on the floor, and two extra-large bottles of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion and a moving picture of Ginny on the dresser. There was another door at the far end of the bedroom. She opened it -- and found herself looking into the bathroom. There was another door opposite to the one she just entered -- probably the adjoining door that led to Ron's room. A pair of maroon boxers, with the initials 'RW' stitched on the hem of each leg, was hanging on the doorknob. Did Ron wear them last night? Did he sleep wearing only boxers? Did he take them off before stepping into the shower this morning? 

A shiver of excitement ran through her as she imagined walking into the bathroom while Ron was taking a shower. But then she remembered the boys saying that her bedroom had its own bathroom, while the two of them shared another. That was a relief -- a disappointing relief, but still... would she be able to wander into their bathroom by mistake while Ron was inside? 

She went out of Harry's room feeling giddy. How did she ever get herself into this mess? Stupid, _stupid_ Ron! She hated any sort of mess or disorder, but the sight of Ron's discarded boxers hanging from a doorknob was just -- _adorable_. Damn him! Why did he have to be so -- so-- adorably Ron? 

Suddenly, she heard a moan coming from the next bedroom, which was supposed to be Ron's. It wasn't the moan of a person who was waking up from a nap; it was more like the moan of a person who was... oh, dear Lord, shagging or being shagged. Not that she knew anything about it, but... there it was again. Definitely a moan of passion. She opened the door as quietly as she could and looked inside. 

Long, silver-blonde hair was fanned across the mattress. Hermione would know that hair anywhere. Fleur Delacour. And lying between her legs, pumping hard into her, was a lean, long-limbed man with short, flaming-red hair. His face was hidden in the crook between her shoulder and neck, while Fleur's eyes were closed and the expression on her face was one of pure ecstasy. Fleur raked her nails over the man's back and whispered something to him that Hermione didn't understand. The redheaded man grunted, stopped mid-thrust, repositioned himself between Fleur's thighs and resumed pounding into her. Fleur screamed and wrapped her legs more securely around the man's waist. 

There was no doubt in Hermione's mind that the man making love to Fleur was Ron. It was the same lean, powerful back she saw during the summer, when they were all together at the Burrow. Harry, Ron and the twins had cleaned out the pond and jumped right in. She and Ginny joined them for a bit of swimming. She had taken one look at Ron in his swim trunks and promptly forgot to breathe. He would always be lean, but the muscles that had developed in his chest, arms and thighs had shaped his body into something so... beautiful. 

She realised she was staring at them. At him as he moved over Fleur. She didn't want to stand there and look at him making love to another woman. But he looked so passionate and he seemed to be -- worshipping the woman he was with. It was so unfair. She wanted to be the one he was making love to. She wanted to be the one inside that room, screaming with the pleasure he gave. She had waited for him all this time, and for what? For someone else to beat her to him and to flaunt it in front of her, that's what. How could she ever compete with a woman who was both stunningly beautiful and seemed so knowledgeable of what would please a man? 

Tears were blinding her. She had to get out of there. She was definitely not going to live there. She was never going to visit Harry or him at that flat. She would never speak to him again. She turned around, ran for the front door, and promptly collided with something solid -- with something, or rather someone, carrying a large paper bag that rustled loudly on impact. She looked up and gasped. 

Ron gaped back at her in surprise. He reached out to touch her cheek, his lips parting to form a question. But before either of them could say a word, a duet of moans floated from the room where Fleur and obviously another male Weasley were keeping each other company. Ron walked to the bedroom and looked inside for the space of two seconds. Then he grabbed Hermione by one arm and led her to the last door down the hall. She barely registered that there was a small piece of parchment nailed to the door that read, "Hermione's room." He closed the door behind her and threw down the paper bag he was still holding. 

She blinked away her tears. She could have laughed and danced with relief. There was no need for her to despair just yet. It wasn't Ron. It wasn't Ron in there with Fleur. She didn't care who was in there with Fleur. It could be Mad-Eye Moody polyjuiced to look like Ron, for all she cared. Just as long as it wasn't Ron himself. But then, the thought of Mad-Eye Moody in any way, shape or form, polyjuiced or not, doing _that_... she nearly threw up. 

To distract herself, she let her eyes take in the sight of what was to be _her_ room. It was already furnished -- she already had a bed, a dresser and a chest of drawers. Chintz curtains with a delicate floral pattern hung from the windows, just the way she wanted. Her first thought was that it was either Ginny or Mrs. Weasley's choice. But then, she'd only ever told Ron exactly what kind of furniture and decor she liked, and only because he had asked her to describe each piece in detail. And then it hit her: every single thing that was inside the study and this bedroom was just the way she saw it in her mind's eye. Ron did this, all of it. Built it from scratch or conjured it up from her description. Between her sense of overwhelming relief, her new-found hope, and the joyful leap of her heart at what he had done for her, she was in serious danger of throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him senseless. 

Luckily, he never noticed the way she was mooning over him. "Bloody Bill! I'll never be able to sleep in that bed again. Damn it!" he spat as he paced the room, gesticulating wildly. 

His swearing was just the thing she needed to snap her out of her Ron-induced stupor. "Bill? B-but his hair--" she sputtered. 

"Fleur probably asked him to cut it." 

"Oh. B-but why is he-- why are they--" 

He wasn't listening to her anymore. He was ranting. Fortunately, Hermione picked up the answer to her question as he paced and barked. "Last time I listen to that stupid great prat. Just wanted a place to stay while waiting for their Apparition permit to France, he said. Just for two, three hours at the most, he said. Just needed a nap before the trip so he wouldn't splinch himself, he said. Bloody hell! Bloody Bill! He can splinch for all I care and leave his bleeding bollocks behind! Bloody newlyweds!" 

"Ron!" she scolded. Then she gasped. "N-newlyweds?" 

"Yeah. Eloped last night. Couldn't face mum. Didn't have the heart to tell her she'd missed seeing him get married. Hmmph! He has enough bollocks for shagging, but none to tell mum about them eloping. Said mum just wouldn't understand how bleeding romantic it was, to be ringing in the new year as husband and wife. Romantic, my arse! Buggering coward!" 

"Shush! They'll hear you!" she hissed. 

"So what?!" he bellowed. "We heard _them_ while they were moaning worse than Augureys back there!" He shuddered and shook himself like a wet dog. "Damn, damn, damn!" 

She could only stare at him, fascinated by the way he pressed his palms to his eyes, as though he was trying to squeeze out his eyeballs. She supposed it was quite a traumatic experience for him to see his eldest brother and the woman he once had a crush on, doing -- the most erotic thing she had ever seen in her life. The one thing she would let only Ron do to her. Her knees started to tremble at the thought of Ron doing things to her that would make her moan worse than an Augurey. 

His voice came from just beside her, his breath grazing her earlobe and making her shiver. "Why were you crying?" 

She started. She didn't even see him move towards her. He was now standing in front of her, his face so close to hers that he was fanning her face each time he exhaled. His nearness rendered her almost incapable of coherent thought. "I -- I wasn't --" she stammered. 

"Yes, you were. In fact, your face is still wet." 

She touched her cheek and found traces of tears. "Oh." 

He wiped away her tears with the back of his fingers. "So, why were you--" 

She trembled at his touch. "I --" 

"Well?" 

"I was -- I thought --" 

"What?" 

"I thought -- at first -- but then -- I -- it's not important." 

"Hermione..." 

"Really, it's nothing. I'm fine." 

"Nice try. Now tell me what's bothering you." 

"Look, I said I'm fine! I don't know why you're trying to--" 

"You can't fool me. I'm not as stupid as I look -- at least, not all the time. I know it's _not_ nothing, you're _not_ fine, so for the last time, why were you crying when I came in?" 

She shook her head and looked away. 

"Hermione..." He moved closer to her, almost pressing himself against her. "Why were you crying when I came in?" 

She looked down at the floor, absolutely refusing to meet his eye. She gasped when one of his hands wrapped around her upper arm, while the other lifted her chin so he could look into her eyes. 

She saw sudden comprehension dawning on his face. "Hang on -- did you think -- oh, God -- you thought _I_ was the one in there with Fleur, didn't you?" 

She couldn't look into his eyes. 

"C'mon, Hermione. Admit it. You jumped to the wrong conclusion." 

He was absolutely right. But that didn't mean she wouldn't defend herself. "I did _not_. It was -- it was an honest mistake!" 

"Oh, really?" 

"Well -- yes! Think about it. I was supposed to meet you here, wasn't I? And the two of them were in your room, weren't they? And Bill's almost as tall as you are. You two have a similar body build. And his hair was different from what I was used to seeing. He looked like you from where I was standing. It was perfectly logical of me to arrive at that conclusion. If you don't believe me, you can even ask -- Harry, or -- or Ginny, if they'd make the same conclusion I did, given the facts." 

"Don't worry, I believe you." 

"Y-you do?" 

"Of course I do. Except--" 

"Except what?" 

"Except you forgot three tiny little details you shouldn't have." 

"I -- I did?" 

"Yep. Would you like to know just exactly what those details are?" 

She nodded dumbly. 

"Okay, then. First, we've known since before our fifth year that Bill and Fleur were together. Fred and George told us about them at Grimmauld Place, remember? Do you really think I'd be such a rotten bastard of a brother to steal Bill's girl from under his nose?" 

That made sense. "Er..." 

"Second, assuming for a moment that I _was_ a big enough bastard to do it, do you really think I'd do it _here, today_, when I knew you'd be coming? Do you really think I'd risk getting caught?" 

She hadn't thought of that. "Well..." 

"And third, even if you think I was _that_ depraved, there's still one thing, one very important reason, that would prevent me from doing it." 

She was almost afraid to ask. "Wh-what's that?" 

His expression suddenly became serious. "The fact that I am desperately, hopelessly, head over heels in love with--" 

"F-fleur?" She took a step backwards. She had to put as much distance between them as possible. She knew it! She knew he'd break her heart into a million-- 

"WHAT? Are you daft?!" he roared. She flinched and took another step back. He shook his head and spoke in a softer voice. "Look, would you just, for once, let me finish?" 

"Oh, okay," she answered meekly. 

He didn't hear her, as he was busy muttering to himself. "Stupid know-it-alls... think they can read your mind and finish your sentences for you..." 

She hated to interrupt, she really did, but she had to know. "Ron?" 

"What?!" he growled. 

"You -- you were saying that you're desperately--" 

His voice was so low and sounded so soft in her ear. "You," he said. He closed the distance between them in one long stride. 

"M-me?" she squeaked as she took another step back. 

"It's always been you, Hermione." He closed the distance between them again. "Desperately--" She took a step back. He took a step forward. "Hopelessly--" She stepped back; he stepped forward. "Head over heels--" Again, she tried to move away, but he wouldn't let her. She didn't know why she was moving away. Her mind couldn't seem to grasp the notion that he just might be-- 

He reached out and wrapped one arm around her waist. His free hand slid up to the nape of her neck. The look in his eyes was turning her insides into goo. "--in love with you." With that, he stooped down and brushed his lips against hers. 

It had to be lightning flowing through her body. Blinding, scorching, white-hot flashes of light were racing through her, making her tingle from her scalp to her toes. And all from one kiss -- one kiss from a clueless git who wasn't so clueless, after all. 

She was caught by surprise when the kiss ended all too soon -- much too soon for her liking. He held her close, his fingers playing with her hair and the look in his eyes telling her she was the most precious thing in the world to him. She stood there for... she didn't know how long, speechless and trembling and just about ready to swoon. 

"You'll move in here, won't you? You'll live here with me... and Harry, of course. Right?" he whispered. 

"Yes," she answered softly. Finding herself able to move again, she stood on tiptoe so she could kiss him. But he turned away before she could press her lips to his. It took all her strength not to moan in protest. 

"And you'll -- you'll let Harry look over the blokes you go out with, won't you?" he spoke in the same low voice, not meeting her eye. He turned pale and his shoulders slumped with what could only be dejection. 

"Wha--?" was the only sound that would come out of her mouth. Well, that was certainly unexpected. What the hell has come over the boy? 

"Harry has your best interests at heart, too. I doubt he'll let you go about with any slimy gits." 

Now she was really confused. "What are you--" 

He continued talking over her. "'Cos if it was me, I wouldn't let you go out with anyone and I'd thump any bloke who would even try to--" 

"Ronald Arthur Weasley! Just what the bloody hell are you on about?" she screeched. 

"Well, you -- I mean -- well, I love you, but -- it's obvious -- you never said -- you don't love me back." She gasped, but he didn't give her a chance to utter a word. He hurried on, obviously determined to finish what he wanted to say. "But that's okay, really, it is. You don't have to say anything, or do anything. Just -- just live here and let me take care of you, and you can--" 

She interrupted him with a low growl and pounced on him, bumping her nose smartly against his. He let out a muffled "ow!" She tilted her head to one side and crushed her lips against his. He staggered backward, but managed to plant his feet firmly on the ground and put his arms around her. She tore her mouth away from his and took great pleasure in hearing him moan as she did so. 

"You really should stop jumping to conclusions like that," she purred at him. 

"I -- I did no such thing," he gasped. 

"Yes, you did." She caressed the short hairs at the back of his neck. She was positively bouncing with joy to feel him tremble at her touch. 

"No, I didn't," he sulked. "You never said you -- well, you know. And I'm telling you, it's okay if you don't--" 

"Shush," she breathed. "I'm trying to tell you I love you, you prat, so stop interrupting." She saw his eyes go slightly out of focus. Taking it as an encouraging sign, she continued talking. "Just because I couldn't say it right away doesn't mean I don't feel anything for you. And maybe, I didn't have the words to tell you--" 

The rest of her words were muffled against his mouth as he closed the distance between them again. She was just melting into the kiss when he pulled back just far enough for him to speak while still maintaning contact with her lips. "'I love you' will do. Just that. It's all I need to hear." 

"I love you, Ron." 

"Good. I love you too. Now shut up and let me snog you senseless." With that, he pressed his lips against hers once again. 

The sensations were so intense that she had to cling to him remain standing. He was alternating between coaxing, teasing and demanding that she open her mouth to him. She gasped as he delved deep into her mouth, engaging her tongue in an intimate dance. But at the next moment, he withdrew, seemingly confining his attentions to her lips. She whimpered in protest and felt him smile against her mouth. 

Her knees buckled when he sucked on her lower lip, tracing his tongue over, under and outside it, and then down towards her chin. He released her lower lip, only to capture her upper lip. He gently drew her lip into his mouth, placed his tongue underneath it and rubbed her lip to and fro. By the time he broke off the kiss to allow both of them to breathe, she had lost the ability to think. 

As he kissed her again, she felt her knees quake, and she realised he was now supporting most of her body weight. She knew he wouldn't let her fall. So instead of using her hands to hold on to him, she ran one hand through his hair, while the fingers of her other hand wormed their way inside his shirt and undershirt, allowing her to rake her nails across the smooth skin of his back. He made a sound halfway between a moan and a growl, and it was her turn to smile. 

After a mind-blowing eternity of exploring each other's mouths, Hermione reluctantly stopped to breathe. Though he was panting heavily, Ron still continued to trail his kiss-swollen lips along her neck. The soft touch of his lips and his warm breath on her skin made her body tremble with desire. She let loose with a moan that would surely make all the neighbors think that she was some kind of scarlet woman. But she didn't care if the sounds she was making rivalled that of ten Augureys. 

"Hermione..." he whispered urgently against her skin. 

"Mmm?" 

"We have to stop..." 

"Why?" she asked, with a touch of sharpness in her voice. She wrapped her arms tighter around him. 

"Because if we don't stop now, I'm going to end up making love to you so many times we won't be able to walk straight tomorrow." 

Her blood sizzled at the thought of her body becoming sore from lovemaking. It would probably feel delicious. "But we don't have to walk anywhere -- we can Apparate, you know." 

"Hermione, this isn't a game. Do you know what you're doing to me?" Without waiting for her answer, he pressed his arousal against her. 

"Oh," she gasped. "Wow. You were a great Keeper at school, but I didn't know you could be a Beater, too." 

His head whipped up and he faced her, wide-eyed with shock. "You -- but that -- that's a dirty joke, that is!" 

"I know. Bloody Fred and George have been a terrible influence on me," she smirked. 

"And -- and -- you swore, too!" 

"Mmm-hmm. I guess you've corrupted me as well." She was surprised with herself. She had never flirted outrageously with Ron before. But then again, he had never told her he loved her before. 

The shocked look on his face was replaced by an evil grin. "You've been a baaad little witch, Miss Granger," he sang. "I'm going to have to _punish_ you for that. And I assure you, I can punish you very thoroughly indeed." 

Fire raged in her belly at the thought of Ron 'punishing' her. He was right -- this wasn't a game. This was terrifying and exciting and so thrillingly unfamiliar. And she wanted to experience it with Ron. All at once, she remembered the day she had developed a fever that raged so hot her parents thought she was coming down with typhoid. She almost missed going to the Burrow and watching the Quidditch World Cup with Harry and the Weasleys during the summer before her fourth year. But it had turned out that her body was just undergoing a change. She had her first period the next day. Tonight, she felt that same heat blaze from within her and radiate outward to her skin, and she knew she was ready for another change. 

"Then come here and _punish_ me, you randy tosser," she cooed. 

His mouth fell open in surprise. Then his face lit up and he laughed. He lifted her and spun her around until they were both breathless with laughter. But when he set her back on her feet again, the expression on his face had changed. The look on his face was grave and gentle -- solemn, even. "I love you, Hermione. We don't have to do anything you don't want to. There's no rush. We have the rest of our lives to spend together. Just holding you like this and watching you smile already feels like heaven." 

Her heart beat wildly with everything she felt for him. "I love you too. And I want to be with you in every way. I'm ready, Ron. Be my lover tonight." 

"I don't want this to be just for tonight." 

"It won't be. But we have to start somewhere, don't we? Tonight feels right." 

"Yes, it does. Just think, we'll be ending the old year and starting the new one together." 

"That sounds lovely..." She reached up and cradled his face in her hands. "Ron?" 

"Hmm?" 

"Do you think I'll be able to walk straight tomorrow?" 

He tilted his head and leaned into her hand. "You won't have to walk anywhere tomorrow. I'll bring you everything you need right here." 

"You're all I need," she said as she smiled at him. 

His answering smile was so warm that it banished any doubt or fear that may have lain hidden at the bottom of her heart. His touch was gentle as the brush of butterfly wings as he swept away stray brown curls from her face. Her eyes fell shut as he softly pressed kisses on her forehead, eyelids, cheeks, the tip of her nose and her chin, before fitting his lips against hers. She wrapped her arms around him and held him close. 

She didn't know how it happened, but a spark between them ignited and their kisses became frenzied, hungry, overwhelming. Hands became tangled in his fiery locks and her bushy mane. His shirt and her blouse melted to the floor. Trousers and skirt, undershirt and brassiere, boxers and knickers followed suit. Shoes were kicked away. Gravity shifted from vertical to horizontal, from their feet to his elbows and knees and her back over the bed. Mouth and tongue sizzled against his hard, freckled chest and her breasts, which he described as "bloody magnificent" between moans and whimpers. 

The bed in her room was large enough for them to roll over and over. On their third roll, she found herself on top of him. She itched to do something she had only read about in a book she stumbled across in the Restricted Section of Hogwarts' library. So she quickly slid down to kiss and taste that part of him that was so different from hers. She marveled at how he was both hard and soft, especially underneath, where his engorged sacs were almost liquid in their silkiness. She took him into her mouth, making his entire body tremble. He moaned her name and his fingers tangled in her hair. His hips twitched and thrusted as she licked and sucked. Her hands and mouth wrapped around his length and squeezed him until he burst inside her mouth. He was unexpectedly sweet, the taste of him tempered with the sugar quills and Chocolate Frogs he was so fond of. 

As soon as his breathing returned to normal, he rolled her beneath him in one swift, fluid motion. She cried out his name again and again as he feasted on her breasts, her nipples drawn, sucked and teased relentlessly. Her entire body tingled and moisture pooled deep inside her as he dipped his head lower and traced a path directly to her centre. She moaned as his fingers brushed over her folds and caressed her. His tongue rubbed against her throbbing core over and over, making her writhe and scream with pleasure. And when his lips closed over her core and tugged gently, she drowned in the sensation of her first orgasm. 

The tremours within her slowly died down. She tugged at his hair to make him move towards her. "Ron, I -- I need --" 

Her voice trailed off as his mouth closed over hers. Tasting herself on his tongue only made her want him more. She should be terrified of his hard length invading the depths of her body. But she was aching and empty and she needed him to fill her until she couldn't tell where she ended and he began. 

She spread her legs and opened up her entire body to him. He seemed to sense how badly she wanted him, or else his own desire screamed for release. He poised himself at her opening and slowly eased himself inside her. 

"I -- I don't -- want to -- hurt you," he gasped. 

"Don't -- oh, God -- don't worry -- ohh -- just love me --" As brave as she tried to sound, she couldn't help the sharp cry that escaped her when he breached that last barrier between them. 

"Oh, God -- I'm sorry -- are you okay? -- I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, love," he murmured as he kissed her all over her face. 

She felt so loved as he fussed over her, heedless of his own need and discomfort. To her surprise and relief, her body had quickly adjusted to his presence. She pulled him towards her and returned his kisses. Remembering what she had seen Fleur and Bill doing earlier, she raised her legs and wrapped them around Ron's waist. The action drew him deeper into her. They both moaned out loud at the sensation. 

He began to rock. His movements were very slow and tentative at first. He was probably still afraid of hurting her. But she needed to feel more of him. So she began to move in time with his thrusts. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as he began to thrust harder and faster. Little white stars exploded behind her eyelids. She felt shockwaves coming from deep within her. "Ron -- more--" were the only words she could utter to let him know... what he needed to know. 

She felt him pry her legs off his waist. She was about to protest when he grasped them tighter, pulled them up and draped them over his shoulders. Then he resumed pounding into her. And there, there was the satisfaction she had been seeking. Her whimpers turned into moans, which turned into screams, which ended in a high-pitched wail as her second orgasm came crashing around her. 

Each tremour that shook her body squeezed at his shaft harder and harder until he exploded inside her. He, too, cried out hoarsely as he convulsed above her, and then slumped against her, completely spent. 

Every fibre of his body was trembling as he tried to roll off her, but she pulled him back down to rest for a bit. His weight on top of her was so comforting, even as it pinned her to the bed. She wouldn't even let him pull out of her -- she wanted him to be a part of her for as long as possible. 

He rolled so that she was now lying on top of him. He summoned his wand from somewhere and waved it over the bed. Blankets unfolded and wrapped around their bodies. She sighed contentedly as he stroked her hair and settled her head more comfortably against his chest. 

"Not even dragon-fire could clean my ears out after hearing _that_," a male voice floated into the room. 

Their heads whipped up towards the voice. She felt her eyes grow as round as galleons when she saw Bill and Fleur standing in the doorway. Mortified at being caught in such a compromising position, Hermione tried to move off Ron, but his hands grasped her waist and held her firmly in place. Bill's handsome face was twisted into a gigantic smirk. Even Fleur was beaming at them. 

"I knoo you would fall under ze Weez-lay charm one day. Eet ees... eenescapable," Fleur said to her, her smile at once knowing and sympathetic. 

"Of course it is, love. It's the only thing strong enough to make a smart girl like Hermione fall for my prat of a brother. That, and a barrel of love potion, perhaps. My baby brother's charm wouldn't fill a teaspoon," Bill sniggered. 

Fleur shot an angry glance at her husband. "Beel," she hissed at him. 

"Bugger off, Bill!" Ron bellowed at his eldest brother. "You have some nerve taking the mickey out of me when you just shagged in _my_ _bed_!" He would have been quite intimidating, if he hadn't been lying in bed naked with Hermione draped over him. 

Bill held up his hands in a placatory gesture. "All right, all right. Sorry, Ronnie. And thanks for your hospitality, such as it is. We just came in here to tell you we have to go home now." 

"To France, I presume?" Ron asked, his voice still tart with anger. 

"No, to the Burrow. Some lunatic was bellowing how I didn't have the bollocks to face Mum because Fleur and I got married without telling her. It knocked some sense into me. So we thought, what better place to greet the new year than home?" 

Ron nodded. "Good for you. Off you go, then." 

"Ron, that's not very nice! We should at least walk them to the door," Hermione scolded. 

Ron turned to her and smiled. "All right, love. If you think you could walk, then..." He let go of her. She glared at him as she pulled away. Every part of her body screamed with soreness. 

Fleur had turned away to give them privacy, but Bill remained standing by the door. "Do you mind?" Ron snarled at him. Bill laughed and followed Fleur out of the room, closing the door as he left. 

Hermione grimaced as she moved to stand up. Ron sprang up and helped her to her feet. "Are you all right?" he asked her in the gentlest voice she had ever heard him use. 

Her heart melted as she looked into his eyes. "Never better," she answered just as gently. Ron held her close and kissed her. 

"Oi, I'd prefer to be at the Burrow _sometime_ before midnight, if you don't mind," Bill called just outside the door. 

"Beel!" Fleur screeched at her husband. 

"Aah, go bugger yourself, you poncey bastard," Ron called back. 

"Ron!" Hermione scolded. 

He turned to her and smiled apologetically. He summoned their clothes from the floor and they began to dress in silence. "Hermione?" he asked as he helped her put on her shoes. "Would you -- that is -- if you don't have other plans -- would you mind if we didn't ring in the new year at the Burrow?" 

"Oh." She couldn't quite keep a slight note of pain out of her voice. "I -- I don't mind. I just thought we -- after all, Harry and I spent last New Year's with your family, so -- but -- wherever you want to spend it will be fine, I'm sure." He was just probably trying to save her from his brothers' teasing. But still, she would have wanted to celebrate with his family -- no, the Weasleys were _her_ family now, and probably have been for many years -- where laughter and love were in abundance. 

He must have seen how disappointed she was. "It's not like that. I -- you see, this is the first time I'd really get to _be_ with you. Every other year, I've had to share you with someone -- with your parents, Harry, my family, even -- even Viktor Krum. I just thought that for once, I could, you know -- have you all to myself. But if you'd rather go to the Burrow--" 

"I'll stay here as long as you want me," she said, tears shining in her eyes. She threw her arms around him, hugged him for all she was worth and kissed him repeatedly. 

Ron responded enthusiastically before reluctantly releasing her a few moments later. "We'd better send Bill off. I'll just write a note to Mum," he said, and dashed off to his room for quill and parchment. 

"Oi, Bill, take a note to Mum for me, would you?" she heard Ron say as she left her room. 

"Do I look like a bloody owl to you?" Bill called back from the living room. 

"You owe me, so yeah. Don't keep it in your back pocket, you'll crumple the parchment. And give it to her straight off, don't wait for her to have kittens asking where I am tonight." Ron came out of his room and handed a hastily folded note to his brother. 

"Hang on, aren't you two coming with us?" Bill asked. 

"We'll breakfast there tomorrow. It says so in the note." 

"I don't know, Ron. You know how Mum is about having all of us together at times like this." 

"She'll understand." 

Bill looked at her and Ron as they stood holding hands. "I suppose she will. After all, Mum believes if anyone can keep you in line, it's Hermione. Of course, she doesn't know what Fleur and I know." He waggled his eyebrows at them. Hermione felt her face grow hot, and from the corner of her eye, she saw the tips of Ron's ears turning pink. After a short pause, Bill held out his hand to Ron. "So, we're off. Happy New Year, little brother." 

Ron grasped his brother's hand firmly. "Happy New Year, Bill. You better take good care of Fleur. Merlin knows she deserves the best, but she chose you anyway." The two brothers looked sternly at each other for a few seconds before bursting into laughter and slapping each other's backs affectionately. 

Fleur and Hermione exchanged an embrace, a kiss and a giggle about falling for the so-called 'Weasley charm.' Afterwards, Bill turned to Hermione and hugged her. "Happy New Year, Hermione. I know Ron's played knight in shining armour for you over the years, so don't you doubt for one moment who his queen is," he said as he tipped her a wink. 

She ducked her head shyly at the compliment. Taking a sideways glance, Hermione saw Fleur and Ron embracing for a brief moment. Then Fleur whispered something in his ear that made his face take on the colour of a tomato. He laughed and shook his head ruefully. Fleur smiled at him good-naturedly and held out her hand to Bill. 

"If you're wondering what Fleur's saying to him, it's just a reminder to use an Imperturbable charm on the door, and a Silencing charm for good measure, before you two engage in -- er, the deed. Especially if Harry's here. Don't want him getting any ideas about doing it with Ginny," Bill said as he took his wife's hand. 

"Oh," Hermione gasped. "Were we that loud?" 

"Hmm, on a scale of one to ten Augureys, I'd say about... twelve." 

"Bugger off, Bill," she snapped. Bill jumped back in shock. She burst into laughter. 

"I can see why Ron's barking mad about you," Bill chuckled. 

She felt Ron put his arm around her shoulders. "Never a dull moment with this one," he nodded sagely. 

After a final round of laughter, Bill and Fleur Disapparated. The clock in the living room chirped, "you'd better move your arses if you want to ring in the new year." A glance at her wristwatch told her it was ten p.m. Ron's stomach started rumbling, triggering hunger pangs within her as well. 

"C'mon, let's eat," he said, summoning the paper bag he'd thrown down in her room. The bag yielded containers filled with beef stew, chippolatas, mashed potatoes, peas and spotted dick. They ate in silent concentration for several minutes. When they had dulled the sharp edge of hunger, they sat back, talking about nothing and everything in between leisurely bites of food. After having devoured nearly everything in sight, they cleared up and headed back to the living room. 

They cuddled on the sofa, where they shared warm, deep, achingly soft kisses. Then Ron carried her back to her bed, where they made love again. 

Another glance at her watch told her it was only mere seconds before midnight. Sounds of people in the street counting down the seconds reached their ears. 

"TEN!" She snuggled closer to him. 

"NINE!" 

"EIGHT!" 

"SEVEN!" He gently tilted her face up to his. 

"SIX!" 

"I love you, Ron." 

"I love you too." 

"ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!" 

Their lips met. There was a world of promise in that kiss, one that held sunny days and picnics in grassy fields, rainy days and shelter from storms, and nights of passion and tenderness over a lifetime spent together. 

When the kiss ended, she looked into his eyes. "Do you think this year will be everything you'd hoped it would be?" 

"No," he answered. "It'll be perfect." 

-- THE END --   
  
**A/N:** Special thanks to Cara3 for being a wonderful friend and beta-reader -- I hope you find your very own redhead one day.   



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